Final Rewards
by Night-Hunter2004
Summary: Vampires of the World of Darkness aren't supposed to be "good people". Some of them bend that rule when it suits them - some of them shatter it daily. Meet Arien Nightshade - a former druid from a fae touched mortal family, who has been a member of Clan


Arien Nightshade, former warlock in the service of the English Crown, still didn't know quite what to make of the so called "New World." Sitting on a barrel at the end of the long Charlestown wharf where it jutted into the Atlantic, he watched the moonlight paint the wave tips silver and let his mind cast back over the past he knew he must have had. It seemed reasonably intact in places - the chantries, the wild country of Ireland, and Wales, and the bleakness of the Yorkshire moors. He could recall the cities - Eboracum, which became York, London - from early outpost to thriving city, a host of others whose names he recalled, but which blended together as if they were just mirror images of one another over time and distance. As indeed they were, he reflected, pulling his cloak tighter around him.  
  
A dark shape loomed against the starlit darkness beyond the horizon line and Arien automatically registered it. Clipper - one of the fast, low- decked trading ships that ran up and down the coast of this new country. As far as he could tell, there was an endless array of them that never ceased, like ants, carrying goods to and fro. He watched, catching the winking of the lanterns on the port side as the ship glided by, and sighed. He had work enough - yet he felt hollow. Like something had been removed and nothing replaced it. But there was nothing to be done about the feeling unless he could figure out what it was, and find a way to replace it or fix it. In the meantime, he hated idle hours, for they gave him far too much time to think. Judging by the stars that it was nearly time for his meeting, he gracefully uncurled from the nest among the barrels, and straightened his cloak. His boot heels thumped softly on the wood of the pier as he turned and made for the street and the buildings beyond.  
  
It was rare to see people about on this street at this hour - at least, not those with good purpose. Arien walked as if he had nothing to fear, and indeed, people left him alone. Some watched him with interest, but none made a move. His reputation belied his looks, and too few of them wished to chance making a powerful enemy. Near the corner, however, one figure approached him, and Arien felt a thrill of alarm.  
  
The man was dressed much as any seafarer would be in this port city at this time of night. He was cloaked and hooded against the chill, and topped Arien by head and shoulders, even stooped and bent. He seemed to be favoring one arm, and walked with a distinct limp, but even so, it was obvious he had once been a powerful man, with the grace of a trained fighter. Such a man could still be a bad enemy, and not someone to trifle with. Arien intended to ignore his presence, but as he passed the man, he was startled to hear him speak in a soft, well modulated voice.  
  
"Eve milord Arien."  
  
Arien stopped dead, turning on his heel to look up at the man. The hood interfered with his sight, even though his night vision was excellent. "Do I know you?"  
  
"I believe you do, although it has been some time since we last spoke," the man said, tipping back his hood. Arien stared at him for a long moment, frowning, unable to place him. His hair was mostly grey now, but still some dark showed through it. He had blue eyes that were bright, belying the apparent decrepitude of his body. Arien crossed his arms over his chest, an unconscious admission that he was comfortable in this one's presence, and tilted his head.  
  
"I cannot place you, sir. I believe you will need to tell me who you are and what business you wish with me. I am on my way to a meeting."  
  
The stranger smiled a little at that, and fell in beside Arien to walk with him. Although his legs were longer, his step was somewhat halting, and Arien had no trouble keeping up. "Perhaps I could wait at the Inn until you are done - and we can talk privately then?"  
  
"Indeed - although it will be some time. I expect this meeting to go several hours."  
  
The man smiled again, and Arien thought he could see more of the personality there. He must have been handsome as a young man, and a strong one as well. Not bulky, certainly not gone soft, but he showed scars and the pains of long life under hard conditions. Without really understanding why, Arien agreed.  
  
"I'm staying at the Lamprey - just over the next street. I should be back within about three hours. Do you have money for food?"  
  
"I am fine, milord - I will simply wait for you there." Without a word, the man walked away, leaving Arien to stand staring after him. As he turned the corner, Arien shook himself and pulled his cloak tighter around him. He didn't need to be late to this meeting...  
  
He came back to the Inn in a foul mood. These people in the new world seemed to have different definitions of honor and honesty and integrity. Most were no better than the criminals originally sent here - which he supposed made sense considering their ancestry. Slamming in the front door and startling the sleepy innkeeper, he pulled up short realizing that he had told the stranger they would talk, and the stranger was indeed waiting for him.  
  
"Another bad evening, eh, milord?" the man said conversationally, as Arien came up to the table. The stranger had obviously eaten and had a cup of ale before him, but seemed perfectly sober and calm.  
  
"Rather normal for this place, I'm afraid." Arien told him. "If you wish to talk in private, this room is empty besides us. Or we can go to my rooms, whichever you prefer."  
  
"I would prefer private in your rooms, milord," the man said, standing stiffly.  
  
Arien led the way up the stairs, but slowly, as his guest seemed unable to do go any faster. At the door of his room, he hesitated only a brief second, and then pushed the door open, inviting him in. He heard a low chuckle as the man moved past him, and then pulled the door shut behind them both. Without thinking, he sent a bolt of flame from his fingers to the wood in the small hearth to start a fire, and the two candle lamps in their glass shades at either end of his worktable. With a start, he looked at the stranger, knowing that what he had just done had doomed the man. To his surprise, the man was smiling.  
  
"Something funny, sir? You still haven't told me your name." Arien was more annoyed with himself over his lapse than with the man who saw it. Maybe just a good dose of dominate to remove the memories...  
  
"Milord, you have not lost your touch. You have always shown me your powers in the past." He sighed a little. "As for my name, I am sorry that you do not remember, for I fear they have destroyed more than just your memories of my name..."  
  
Arien pulled the chair over, sitting astride it, his arms crossed on the back of it, to look at his visitor who, making himself at home, sat down on the edge of the bed. "You are telling me, then, that I have known you before, and yet I do not remember you?"  
  
Without answering, the man slipped a ring from his finger and handed it to Arien. The ring was heavy silver, a square bezel in the front set with a crest bearing a rampant griffin. The symbol meant nothing to him. Lifting an eyebrow at the man who, having returned to his seat, remained silent, Arien opened his mind to his talents and asked the ring for information. As the first images began to flicker across his mind, Arien's expression went from skeptical to astonished. More memories flooded over him and the dam finally burst.  
  
"Ilvarin? Is it truly you?" He was out of his chair, hugging his former ghoul with an almost childlike abandon.  
  
"Yes, milord, it is me. And a long way from that cold dock in Bristol, I might add..." He hugged Arien back, then released him to sit beside him on the bed.  
  
"How long as it been?" Arien asked him, trying to keep his head above the flood of memories of so many years with this man as his friend, his servant, even his lover. Ilvarin shook his head.  
  
"Too long, milord. Twenty years and more, since you left so suddenly, and I never knew what happened to you."  
  
Arien looked at him, startled. "Twenty years - already? Lord and Lady... Twenty years." he shook his head slowly. "They go so fast for me, here - everything moves so fast here..." He looked up again, concerned. "How did you ever find me?"  
  
Ilvarin smiled, but this time Arien did not miss the lines of pain and sickness that marked his face. "I kept touch with some of the old ghouls - one of them found out where you were sent and told me. Just about six months ago, in fact. It's taken this long to find you for certain, and to get passage here."  
  
Arien laughed, his arms around his oldest and dearest friend. "I cannot believe you found me..." He grew serious suddenly. "Ilvarin, you do know that I did not leave you voluntarily? I would never have done that. I didn't even realize..."  
  
Ilvarin's arms went around him gently, hugging him for a second again, then releasing him as if afraid to be too familiar. "I am well aware of what they did to you, milord. And to your childe as well..."  
  
"Childe?" Arien frowned. "I have no childe." Ilvarin blinked and then seemed to make up his mind.  
  
"Indeed - well you mentored quite a few in your day, milord. So what is it that you do here?"  
  
They fell into talking about the state of the settlements along the Atlantic, and the little that Arien knew about the inland cities. As they talked, and Arien remembered more and more, his eyes strayed more and more often to Ilvarin's face, and the obvious pain. It was not long before sunrise, when he finally pulled his old ghoul into his arms in a loving embrace.  
  
"We have talked and enjoyed the night, my friend, but I am certain you did not come through all these miles and years to listen to me rattle on about transient politics and such. What drove you to seek me out?"  
  
Ilvarin's good hand, a bit rough and gnarled, slid gently through Arien's hair with the caress of a lover. "I merely wished to see you again milord, and say goodbye."  
  
Arien looked startled, but in truth, he was hardly surprised. "It does not have to be goodbye, Ilvarin. I can heal you, and you can serve me again..." Even as he said it, Arien knew it wasn't true. From the look on Ilvarin's face, he knew it as well - but there was also love there, that Arien should care enough to try.  
  
"It is too late for that, milord - not this time around. Already I have overstayed, and my death is closer than you might think. I despaired of finding you, but I think I held on only for that. Now that I have found you, I wish only for you to send me on...."  
  
Arien froze. "You want me - oh, Ilvarin, I could never hurt you. You deserve so much more from me than that. Let me at least try to heal you..."  
  
"Milord, there is no cure for age - even if I became as you, I would carry my age and pain into eternity. Sleep is best for me, milord, and no better sleep could I have than the peace of your arms, and the bliss of your Kiss..."  
  
Arien rose slowly, walking away to look into the fire, conscious of the silent man behind him, and the weight of years of memories, and love, and devotion. What reward could he give to this man? Only granting his last wish, perhaps? Blood-tinged tears fell for long moments, and the silence grew deep. Finally, he turned to kneel at the feet of his servant and friend.  
  
"Ilvarin, I - I love you. I owe you so much, and I have so little time to repay it. Give me one more night - drink from me, and let my blood make you stronger. Let us see if I can turn back the clock for you. And if not - if the pain is too great, I will do as you ask. But please, let me try..."  
  
Ilvarin smiled, lifting Arien to his feet and pulling him down beside him gently. "You offer me a hope, but I think a false hope, milord. I do not believe that your blood - or anyone's - can undo the damage of time and disease and injury. But I would crawl through hell itself to have one more night with you. And I know you will keep your promise. So, though it pains me to know that I am hurting you as well, I will do it. And maybe for a while, we can pretend we have never been apart..."  
  
Arien nodded slowly, slipping out of his shirt and helping Ilvarin from his. In the lamplight, remembered scars looked faded and pale, while a host of newer scars crossed the old and caught the light with a darker tone. Arien ran his hand over them gently.  
  
"It has been a hard twenty years on you, Ilvarin. How old are you now?"  
  
The former ghoul smiled, pulling Arien down to lay in his arms. "I am, in truth, over 90, although of course thanks to your blood for so many years, I do not look it. But it is catching up to me quickly..." He broke off as the dagger opened a small cut on Arien's chest, and his head dipped down to take the rich vitae.  
  
"Indeed - with me so long; such a faithful servant, and they force me to leave you behind....to this..." Arien sighed, his hands sliding through the greying hair that, even in this lamplight, still showed streaks of red in places. A warm flood of memories washed over him, and he let them, conscious of the living presence under his hands, and the touch of lips and tongue at the site of his wound.  
  
When he was done, Arien healed the cut, and rolled over to pull the mortal into his arms. "Sleep with me today, and we will see what tomorrow brings." Arien was asleep before he ever heard the reply, if there was one.  
  
**  
  
The shadows were long outside, and twilight was approaching when Arien awakened. Beside him, Ilvarin lay still sleeping. Conjuring a globe of light to illuminate him, Arien looked him over critically, and knew that this time, his luck was not going to hold.  
  
The ghoul - for such he was again now - had indeed aged. Although he looked less ill tonight, he was still far from well. Long illness or pain had etched deep lines in his face. Scars that had seemed nothing much in the glow of last night's rediscovery showed themselves as deep and painful reminders of failures and losses. The left arm was bumpy along the upper part as if broken and poorly set, the hand nearly useless. Using his powers to keep the ghoul deeply asleep, Arien tried to get into his mind and look for a handle on his condition. Something - anything - he could use to keep this one by him. A few frustrating moments later, he lay back, and allowed Ilvarin's sleep to normalize.  
  
He felt the ghoul stir next to him, and smiled as he reached over to caress him gently. "Evening, Ilvarin. How do you feel tonight?"  
  
The ghoul smiled back, stretching a little. "I am feeling much better, thank you, milord. Indeed - you always did have a way of doing that."  
  
Arien grew serious. "What we talked about last night, do you still wish this?" Ilvarin's smile didn't dim.  
  
"I do, Arien - truly. I have thought much about this - and on the voyage over here, what I would do if I found you. I am honest when I say I wanted to say goodbye, to be with you one more time. But I am an old man now - and soon I will be no man at all, only a doddering old vegetable with no dignity and no ability to care for myself. Then I will be open to - as the bard said - the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. I do not wish such and end."  
  
Arien sighed, nodding. "I was afraid of such. And yet, you are right. You are a proud man, who served me well. My leaving you was not my decision, nor did I even know I had done it. But now, you have come to me, as you have every right to do. And it is my duty as well as my pleasure, to reward your service." He rose from the bed gracefully, standing in the window with the early starlight shining on the pale skin of his chest and shoulders, and sparkling over the silver white of his hair. Hearing a sigh, he turned. "What is it, my friend?"  
  
"You are beautiful, Arien. You have always been so - and now I see you with fresh eyes, you are even more beautiful than my memories." He struggled to sit up in the bed, before going on. "I am only sorry that this will hurt you - but please know that in doing what I ask, you free me from a fate worse by far than death."  
  
Arien blushed a bit at the compliment, leaning against the sill to watch his ghoul, noting how difficult such simple maneuvers were for his aging joints and muscles. Although he did not wish to do it, he heard himself say the words as if from a distance: "I will do as you ask, knowing - as you should know - that you take a part of my heart with you. When you are reborn, Ilvarin - in whatever way or time or circumstance - Goddess grant that you will find your way back to me."  
  
"That I promise you, milord," Ilvarin told him, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on his clothing. Arien walked over and stopped him, slipping his arms around him and pulling him back into the bed to cuddle.  
  
"You have no need for those, my love. No matter your age, no matter what else has befallen you, you are beautiful in my eyes. Your high heart, love and friendship have made many of my years brighter." With one hand, Arien brushed the greying hair back from the ghouls face, and kissed him gently. Ilvarin's response was a soft sigh of pleasure and Arien felt him relax in his arms.  
  
"I have loved being with you, milord. I bless you that you will let me go in your arms, and be safe, and free..."  
  
Arien smiled, letting his fangs drop, and pulling the ghoul closer to cuddle as they pierced his neck, and Arien began to drink. Beneath him, he felt the pleasurable shudder of the ghoul's body, and knew that - as it always had - this moment brought bliss and freedom from pain.  
  
The tiniest slice of crescent moon showed through the open window as Arien felt the ghoul's breathing slow. Withdrawing from the wound, he looked into Ilvarin's eyes with all the love he truly felt. "The time for choices is now, love. Stay as one like me - or go on to your next round?"  
  
There was recognition and love in the ghoul's eyes as he returned Arien's gaze, and his voice was a bare whisper but tinted with the sounds of joy. "Send me on, milord - so that I may come back and find you again in a body worthy to serve you..."  
  
Arien nodded, pushing back his sadness for the moment, and smiled at his ghoul. "Then I commend you to the Goddess and her Lord, Ilvarin, as a man of honor, a worthy servant, a noble lover. Rest and grow strong, and return to me, gods willing. I love you..."  
  
Ilvarin felt the fangs sink into his neck once again, and smiled. "As I love you milord, and always will. Goddess keep you for me, until we meet again..." A few moments later, his breath stilled, and Arien's fingertips gently closed his eyes as he licked closed the wound. Despite his pain, Arien smiled himself to see the tender smile on Ilvarin's lips.  
  
"I will miss you, my friend," Arien said softly, kissing the smiling lips gently, and laying the ghoul down. Rising, he dressed himself for the road, and packed his few belongings. Composing himself, he took his bags down the stairs, and rousted the innkeeper's boy to get his horse ready. To the innkeeper, he gave another message.  
  
"I have a favor to ask of you. The old gentleman that was here with me - you saw him?"  
  
"Indeed - your father, I thought, milord - perhaps." Arien smirked inwardly.  
  
"Yes - very astute of you!. Well, he has been ill for some time, and he has passed away in his sleep. Irregular as it might be, I have no home in this city, of course, and I cannot take him home with me - at least not yet. So, could you see that he is buried in a good place here, and send me word of where? When my affairs permit, I will deal with moving him home."  
  
The innkeeper looked alarmed at the mention of a death, but Arien's reasonable voice and demeanor, and the gold coins in his hand for the service, appeared to take the sting out of the duty. When he nodded, Arien clapped him on the back in a friendly manner.  
  
"I've enjoyed your house, and when next I return, I will stay here again. But for now, business calls me elsewhere." He picked up his bags and left the room, leaving the innkeeper staring after him, and chinking three gold coins in his hand. 


End file.
